


the night is shattered (the blue stars shiver in the distance)

by hikaie



Series: i lay these eggshells to remember to be careful [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Comfort Sex, Cunnilingus, Emotional Sex, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rebuilt Hale House, Rough Sex, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3692247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stay.” Stiles whispers, pulling Derek against him snugly. His heat and weight are nearly overwhelming, but Derek turns and nuzzles into his neck. His breath hitches.</p><p>“Stiles, I-”</p><p>“I know. Me too.” He whispers in reply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the night is shattered (the blue stars shiver in the distance)

**Author's Note:**

> There's a tense shift somewhere in here but it's fairly early on. Sorry about that. This was more of a casual, vent fic, kind of? It started out (as per usual) as me wanting to write smut and then adding some weird, sad plot to it. Also the Kira/Allison/Scott is only hinted at, and the Everybody Lives AU is because I'm still sad about everyone ok? Ok.
> 
> Also, I headcanon Stiles as trans and in practically every fic I've ever seen with him in it he like hates his body and while trans people who feel dysphoria from their body are fine with me it just personally irks me as someone who isn't to see EVERY trans character written like that. So, to warn you, Stiles is 100% comfortable with his body (yes, his genitalia and breasts included) in my writing. So, as a last warning, **this fic features a transgender male Stiles, who has a vagina, having explicit, enthusiastic (consensual) sex. If this, or some of the vocabulary used may make you uncomfortable, please do not read this fic. If you continue and are uncomfortable for dysphoric/personal reasons at any time, please stop. Your comfort matters the most.**
> 
> Do not comment with transphobic remarks, including how I'm not writing a trans character "correctly" please.

> _Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.  
>       - Pablo Nerudo_
> 
> "Love is so short, and the forgetting is so long."

* * *

 

Stiles wakes up to the distinct, sticky feeling of sweat between his thighs and his armpits. Regardless of this he numbly stays in the same position, the thick duvet trapping his body heat in and making perspiration bead anew on his face. The AC kicks on and he watches as it stirs his curtains into painting sheer, floating shadows on his floor in the pre-dawn moonlight. Today is the day.

* * *

 

Scott greets him in first period with a bagel- the good ones, expensive, covered in poppy seeds and cheese and curly, sour smelling onions with rich strawberry cream cheese oozing from it. He gets them twice a year, from that bakery in the industrial district- his birthday and today. A gift and a pittance. Stiles smiles wryly at the thought as he grunts in appreciation and bites into the bread.

School happens around him like he’s watching a movie, all the actors following their cues to be in the right spots but all the technicians are missing theirs to hit the sound or the lights. It feels like a prolonged panic attack without the hysteria. Nothing like his headspace when the kitsune was with him; nothing like 3rd grade when he couldn’t breathe without the sharp feeling of grief ripping through him. But it’s all enough to exhaust him.

Everyone always acts different today. Scott, Lydia, Jackson- they’ve all known him long enough to know today is a day for Scott to let him win their scrimmage, for Jackson not to shove him into a locker, for Lydia to amp up her sarcasm and treat him no different. (Lydia hurt the worst the first three years and then he told her to stop acting as if he was something fragile, liable to break. She’s the one who told Allison last year.) Boyd and Isaac and Erica… well, they didn’t know him all that well but living in a town with two elementary schools and one middle and one high school respectively means word got around when he was a kid. And word is enough, it seems.

Normally he’d go home after school and crawl into bed and sleep through the remaining eight hours of the day, uninterrupted. His dad had been working since last night and would be working through the day. Any other day of the year Stiles would chastise him over it for a week but today was the acceptable circumstance. The one time that he’d let the sheriff get away with working a double. Then when Stiles had slept until roughly 4 A.M. and his dad was just getting in, they’d go out to the 24-hour diner and have a quiet breakfast together and visit her grave afterwards. It hurt less when it wasn’t the day of.

But of course, the Hale property was in the process of heavy remodeling, and for some reason the entire pack had to be present today for the grand unveiling or _something_. It was Lydia’s plan, so on one hand he couldn’t quite be mad, because Stiles knew she was just trying to keep him busy. It still didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

The air was humid as the jeep trundled along the winding dirt path towards the Hale house. It felt like rain, maybe. He wouldn’t be surprised. The betas were already outside the house when he pulled up, hanging around and talking. Erica tossed her head back with a laugh at something Jackson had said. Stiles smiled beside himself, if a little sadly. They were quite the little family.

He parked beside Scott and hopped down from his seat, joining the rest of the pack on the porch. “So, are we going to see the inside or not?” He asked as he approached.

The front door banged open, Lydia looking peeved as Derek appeared over her shoulder, looking humored and relaxed. It was quite the contrast to days past. “If any one of you tracks dirt in on these floors I will personally feed you wolfsbane laced pastries. Do not test me.” She narrowed her eyes particularly at Scott and he shrank back behind Allison and Kira.

Stiles trailed behind the rest and kicked off his shoes amidst the others on the porch, stepping inside on the cold hardwood of the foyer. An intricate parquet pattern spiraled from the center of the room, and Stiles brain supplied the appropriate word after a few moments of ticking.

“A triskelion?” He looked up, noticing everyone else had moved on and he clammed up, popping his mouth shut and turning to close the front door. He walked slowly through the rooms, eyeing everything with disinterest. It wasn’t that he didn’t care- they’d all been waiting for this to be done with so they would have somewhere more secure to hide and plan and hang out. But today wasn’t exactly the best day to spring this on him.

Every room was lavishly furnished, the Hale family fortune shining through. The living room was large, with high ceilings and a beautiful golden-hued wood floor. There were two large couches and a comfortable looking Lay-z-Boy, what was _hopefully_ a sturdy coffee table and a flat screen mounted to the wall over the fireplace. The decor was tasteful and made the place feel homey.

Most of the rooms were, of course, large and open, made to fit the lifestyle of a large and growing pack of werewolves. The kitchen was well stocked and outfitted in stainless steel appliances, the dining room had a large round table, and the door to the basement featured a nice set of high security locks. Stiles couldn’t help but smile at that.

On the way to the second floor, he got distracted by the family photos hanging on the walls. A young Derek and his family; two young girls, one a bit taller than the other but both strikingly similar in looks; Peter with a dark haired baby in his arms, the proudest smile imaginable on his face. Something twisted- like pity or awe or dull decade-old grief- in Stiles’ stomach.

The rest of the house was gorgeous bathrooms and bedrooms, guest suites and an outfitted den on the third floor. Stiles appraised Lydia’s eye for design and admitted he was more than happy with his ‘designated’ room. (“Lydia the bathroom floor has heated floors. You realize you may never see me again, right?” “Exactly.”)

To celebrate, they broke in the kitchen and Derek presented the entire pack with a bottle of wolfsbane laced champagne. After an entirely too-large meal of spaghetti and meatballs, salad and three different types of garlic bread they all piled into the living room to watch a movie. Stiles marvelled at the reality of five tipsy werewolves and one kitsune. It was a sight to behold. And so far, Lydia’s plan was doing wonders at keeping him distracted.

* * *

 

“M’sorry.” Scott mumbled into his shoulder as he dragged his best friend upstairs. Allison and Kira were giggling a bit and leaning into each other heavily as they tripped up ahead of him. Stiles sighed audibly.

“It’s okay buddy.”

Scott raspberried his lips against Stiles’ neck and he squealed. “Dude, no, okay! That’s what the girls are for.”

Kira squawked and tripped through the door to her bedroom and Allison helped her up through her laughter. Stiles waited impatiently for them to move before he dumped Scott into their king size bed. He stared down at his best friend and shook his head but smiled wryly. “I guess this is payback for when I got drunk last year, huh?” Scott grinned and starfished out on the bed.

Stiles had to leave when the girls crawled into bed, giggles and very disconcerting groans from his best friend emanating from behind the door when Stiles closed it.

He took the stairs to the third floor, where he, Isaac and Derek had rooms. Isaac’s snores floated down the hall and Stiles made sure to close his door as he passed before continuing to his own room. His eyes lingered on the strip of light under Derek’s door before he closed his own door, shedding his clothes and crawling into the comfort of cold, foreign sheets.

* * *

 

Nightmares woke him, cold dread seeping down his spine in waves as he gasps into his pillow. He disentangles himself from the sheets and pads into the bathroom, flicking the light on and staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and the faint outlines of tear tracks ran jaggedly down his cheeks. He tore his eyes away from the image in front of him and turned on the faucet, scrubbing his face with the cold water that spurted out.

“Are you okay?”

“ _Jesus_ fucking _Christ_!” Stiles physically jumps, skittering around and wielding the plunger like a weapon. Derek blinks at it before batting it away from his face.

“Really? I’d snap that like a twig.”

“Can you at least _try_ not to sneak up on me?” Stiles places the plunger back beside the toilet and sighs noisily.

“I heard noises, I thought I should come check it out.”

“I could have been peeing, dude.” Stiles turns back to the sink and turns the faucet off, staring as the water swirled down the drain.

“No, I heard…” Derek trails off and Stiles looks up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Crying. I heard you crying. Is it the nightmares, still?”

Stiles rakes his hand through his hair and looks away from the Alpha’s piercing gaze. “I don’t really want to talk about this.”

“But Deacon said to keep an eye on you, so if you’re still having nightmares…”

“It’s not about the Kitsune, alright? Can I just go back to bed?” He flexes his fingers nervously on the sink. Derek seems to hone on it, more like a hawk than a wolf.

“If I couldn’t hear your heart I’d still know you were lying; you always do that when you’re nervous. It’s a tell.” He sounds so smug, so know it all, supplying Stiles with this information he’s picked up by careful observation. Stiles could care less about what tells he has. He’s not lying.

“Yesterday was the day my mom died.” Stiles chews the words out and looks back up at Derek. He sees a flash of red, a look of confusion and regret- guilt. “So can you just leave me alone?”

Stiles watches the way Derek shifts, and for the first time he notices that Derek is dressed in sleep clothes; boxers and a thin tee shirt. He swallows and looks down at the sink once more when Derek makes a move towards him.

“I know I’ve been an asshole in the past, but with everything that’s happened with… the pack, recently, you know that I’m… always here to talk, right?”

“It’s not something I need to talk about.” He turns around and tries not to look startled as he looks up at Derek’s (considerably closer) gaze. “Nor do I want to.”

“That’s what I felt for a long time, too, but-”

“Stop.” Stiles holds up his hand. Derek closes his mouth and his face sets in a familiar, grim look. “I did my talking a long time ago. Let me have my… my grief.” The last words sound so small. Stiles looks down at the floor and something inside him finds it so funny to see that Derek is barefoot, no socks, nothing. A laugh bubbles up from his throat.

The concerned look on Derek’s face grows. “Stiles…”

He stifles his laughter with a fist to his mouth and looks up at Derek. Beyond the concern there’s something in his eyes like comfort, or knowing. Stiles hates the similarities of their pasts sometimes. He wishes no one ever had to feel this pain like he’s had to.

“I know. It’s okay.” Derek says quietly, and Stiles realizes he said that outloud.

“I miss her.” Comes out, too. He feels shame and all the rest of his pent up emotions on his face, heating up his cheeks and making his eyes burn. He should be sleeping, right now. Tears don’t matter when you’re not conscious to acknowledge them.

“I know.” Derek repeats, and he moves closer, like he’s approaching a deer or a rabbit in the wild. Something in Stiles breaks and he crumbles into Derek’s embrace. It’s awkward, horrifyingly mortifying, completely alien. Stiles is usually so tactile but this makes him feel pitied and he hates it. He shoves Derek away, just as suddenly as he had fallen against him.

“Why you? You say you know- that you _understand_.” Stiles shoves into Derek’s chest and watches as the man takes a faltering step back. “Everyone else treats me a certain way and I’m- I’m accustomed to it, Derek. I can’t change how they act because they knew me when she died but you’ve always made sure to get on my last nerves, you’ve always _hated_ me so please-!”

The plastic toothbrush holder goes clattering to the floor and Stiles’ hand slips in soap residue on the counter from the upturned dispenser. Derek is crowding him in against the hard granite of the counter, his eyes red and Stiles’ breath hitches in an emotional halfway-sob at the tips of his exposed fangs on his lips. “I have _never_ hated you, do you understand me? _Never_.” He snarls the last word out and Stiles tries to reply but that’s so difficult to accomplish with the way Derek crushes him up against the counter and licks into his mouth like he’s dying.

More things noisily clatter off the counter- the soap, the spare roll of toilet paper, the wooden dish full of potpourri. Stiles moans and greedily tugs Derek closer by his shirt. Derek’s fangs rip across his bottom lip in just the barest bite and Stiles tastes the tang of blood on his tongue and the back of Derek’s teeth.

Derek tears away from him and scrubs at his mouth while swearing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

Stiles exhales shakily. “Don’t be.”

“No, you’re upset and I-” He holds his face in both hands and musters what seems to be a sincerely _guilty_ look at Stiles. “I took advantage.”

His face falls and he glares at Derek. “Did I give you the impression I didn’t want that?”

“No, but…”

“But what?” Stiles sits up on the edge of the counter and gives a pointed look at Derek’s crotch. “I know you did.”

“That doesn’t matter. I didn’t even let you speak- to say if you wanted it, or, or not.” Derek huffs and looks at Stiles sternly, like he’s the first one to ever explain consent to him.

He leans back against the mirror and spreads his legs daringly. “I-” His face heats up, his sudden burst of bravery catching up with him, but he still manages to get the words out. “I want it. You.”

“Stiles.” Derek whispers, his tone hitching into something needy.

His fingers grip the edge of the counter and he realizes that Derek was right; it is his tell. “Please? It’ll help.” Something about that phrase makes him guilty, he shouldn’t be trying to make himself feel better in this kind of way. But he does want it. He thinks he’s wanted Derek since the first time he saw the older man shirtless.

There’s something primally thrilling about the way the Alpha falls to his knees in front of Stiles and tugs his boxers down. His eyes widen and he looks up at Stiles, hand wandering between his thighs and brushing hesitantly against the dark curls there. Stiles raises his eyebrows and widens his legs again, though the self-conscious blush is still on his face.

“What’s the matter? Never seen a guy with one of these before?”

“You just never-” Derek croaks. “ _Smelled_ like it-”

“Oh god, dude, that’s so gross, please don’t ever say anything like that around Lydia because I’m sure she’ll kill you.” Stiles scoots down the counter and shivers at the barest brush of Derek’s fingers against him. “Anyway, I’m on birth control so like, go wild man.” Stiles grins sheepishly at the look his words receive. He gives a startled moan when Derek runs a finger up his slit and presses against the swell of his clit.

“Holy shit.” He breathes, head falling back against the mirror. Derek’s other hand comes up and presses his left thigh away, his mouth coming to the junction of his thighs. Stiles’ face burns and his crotch tingles at the sound of Derek inhaling deeply.

“Can you please no- ahhh _hhh_ -” Stiles’ hips twitch up against the sudden heat of Derek’s mouth on him. The wolf has an arm curled around his right thigh, thumb pressed up firm on his clit to spread him apart as he mouths at his entrance. It’s the single most erotic experience of Stiles’ life and he presses himself, wanting and wet, against the Alpha’s inviting mouth.

He scrabbles for purchase on the counter when Derek looks up at him with red-ringed eyes. Stiles moans shakily and arches against the slow slide of the Alpha’s tongue out of his pussy. Derek sucks sloppy and loud on his clit and Stiles sobs out a plea. He tugs on Derek’s hair, pulls him in closer until he’s shoved his tongue in deep and Stiles is riding his face as best he can in this position with fervor. Derek glances up at him again and his pupils are blown, dark and lusting, ringed in that bright Alpha red. Stiles comes with a shout.

Derek pulls away from him with one parting suck and Stiles shakes all over. Derek licks his lips and swipes his hand across his mouth and then stands, hand massaging Stiles’ inner thigh. “You good now?”

“Yeah I-” Stiles blushes and squirms. “Yeah gimme just a second and I’ll do you.”

“That’s not necessary.” Derek slowly pulls back and pushes Stiles’ thighs closed with- god, with a blush on his cheeks.

“Dude, seriously? I just need five seconds.” Stiles pushes himself up and reaches for the hem of Derek’s boxers.

“Don’t.” Stiles pulls back with a flinch.

The room is silent for a moment. “Oh.” Stiles says, quietly.

“It’s not- I just, you wanted to- It was supposed to be for you.” Derek steps close again and Stiles juts his chin out defiantly.

“Fuck me.”

“ _What_?”

“You heard me.” Stiles slides off the counter, his legs like jelly. He falters for a moment, but he yanks on Derek’s shirt with one hand and shoves the other into his boxers. “Fuck me. Right here, right now.”

“Stiles please, you’re not- _hnnh_.” Derek grabs onto the counter for support when Stiles squeezes him at the base of his cock. Stiles crowds into his space and leans into his neck, hissing angrily into his ear.

“Or are you just not any good at it?”

The reaction he was hoping for is… not far off from what Derek does. He’s pushed bodily around, Derek gripping his hips and guiding their bodies through the bathroom door. Stiles trips backwards onto the bed, the breath punching out of him. There’s no time to recover as Derek crawls over him and slides his hands under Stiles’ shirt, claws shredding through the fabric. He exhales sharply when Derek trails his nails down his chest, burning down his torso until Derek pulls them back in and delves his fingers back inside his heat.

“Oh, fuck.” Stiles chokes out, legs twitching at the onslaught of sensation. Derek lets out this… snarl, for lack of a better word, biting on the exposed curve of Stiles’ throat. He hisses and moans at it, squirms and fumbles to touch Derek’s cock.

They twist together in the sheets, Stiles working to pull Derek’s boxers down none too successfully. He moans at the sight of it, thick and red and the tip slick with precum. Wetness seeps from his opening and he tugs on Derek’s cock; practically an invitation.

Derek hefts up his thighs and ruts against the slick between them, makes him whimper. “Oh please, oh fuck Derek, oh please fuck me please-” The man delivers in one quick, punishing thrust. Stiles howls his pleasure out. Derek holds a hand over his mouth and Stiles moans vocally into his skin as Derek ruts into him at a feverishly fast pace. They never break eye contact; it’s intoxicating, makes Stiles want to close his thighs up from the piercing look Derek is giving him. But he can’t.

“Is this what you wanted?” Derek grunts out into his ear. He loosens his hand from around Stiles’ mouth and Stiles gasps out, gulps in air and nods furtively.

“Tell me Stiles. Say it to me.” Derek pulls back and mouths at Stiles’ swollen lips.

“Oh God yes Derek, ‘s what I’ve always wanted.” He sobs out and clutches at the alpha’s hair, kisses him greedy and sloppy. Derek suddenly hefts him up into his lap, the new position pushing his cock further inside, so deep it makes Stiles see stars. He chokes breathlessly and works his hips in the tiniest roll, loves the way Derek growls from it.

“Harder.” Stiles gasps out, clutching the back of Derek’s neck and raking his fingers through the short hair there. “Gimme all ya- ya got.” He swallows around the words and squirms on Derek’s cock. He groans and grabs Stiles’ hips, pulling him up and pushing back into him so hard and fast Stiles screams from it.

“You’ll wake someone.” Derek breathes out, his voice undulating with the effort of his thrusts. Stiles whines, high and reedy and clenches up all around his cock. His voice goes funny at the end of his sentence and he slams Stiles back into the sheets, pounding into him harder- just like he asked for.

“Oh who cares Scott kept me up for an hour after you took him to his room.” Derek growls, tugging Stiles’ hair to expose his neck. Stiles gasps out when he feels Derek’s teeth, squirms all over at the press of his fangs, sobs and screams at the break of his flesh. He comes for the second time that night.

He’s babbling when he comes down, hands twisted tight into Derek’s hair, hips numbly twitching up against the now-slow piston of Derek’s. “Wan’it.” He moans lowly, nuzzling into Derek’s neck.

“It’s not a good idea, Stiles.” Derek huffs, moving his head down to kiss Stiles wetly.

“Please.” He whispers, weakly wraps his legs around Derek’s waist and pulls him in close. “Do it.”

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Derek grits his teeth and pulls back, looks down at him. Stiles lets out a tremulous, whining moan at the way Derek suddenly picks up the pace again, his walls so tight and the friction burning delicious, numbing pleasure to the base of his spine. He lets his mouth fall open, moans with abandon. Derek’s hand drops to Stiles’ cheek and he realizes, belatedly, that he’s sobbing needily at every thrust, tears cold on his cheeks.

“Want it, want it God Derek give it to me.” He begs, pushing his hips up weakly. Derek groans and buries his face in his neck, his nails digging harshly into Stiles’ hip. Stiles moans softly and squeezes up around Derek’s dick.

“Don’t stop.” Derek groans into his ear, making Stiles whine and twist. He tightens his legs around Derek’s waist and begs for it, harder, faster, approves with loud moans and a pleased shriek as Derek ploughs into him. He feels it, this time, the slow build of his orgasm, and Derek pulls back to grab his hips and pull him down against his cock with every hard, torturous thrust.

“Oh right there Derek I’m gonna-” He drops his hand onto his clit, looks up at Derek as he circles it and tugs, bottom lip pulled into his mouth. Derek snarls and his eyes flash full, bright red and Stiles screams when he falls over him, licking into his mouth and rutting his hips in animalistic frenzy. He feels the swell of his orgasm and he scratches down Derek’s back, moans out “Ohgodohgodohgod _ohgod_.” and comes so powerfully, mouth agape, Derek biting his jaw and growling as he ruts one final time into him.

Stiles doesn’t have time to recover from his third orgasm, not with the way Derek is moaning appreciatively into his ear as his cock twitches inside Stiles, warmth filling his pelvis. Stiles jerks and moans beneath him, whimpers loud at the sudden feel of Derek’s cock thickening at the base. He gasps and grinds his still-sensitive pussy down on it and cums a fourth time in shivering waves, gripping onto the older man above him.

They stay connected for what feels like forever, the heat inside Stiles pleasant, the fullness nearly unbearable. He whimpers and twists his hips both against and away from Derek at times. It’s as if he wants away but simply can’t get enough. Derek murmurs into his ear when he comes down, kisses his swollen lips and sucks on the bite marks on his neck. Stiles makes weak, appreciative noises at every brush of his lips.

When Derek pulls out, Stiles feels the slick, filthy feeling of cum sliding out of his pussy. He blushes and moans softly, hides his face in Derek’s neck. Derek pushes his fingers inside of him, makes him whimper. There’s something oddly arousing about the way Derek methodically fingers him and drags more of his spill to seep out with every clench of Stiles’ walls.

“Can’t.” Stiles gasps, even though Derek is thumbing his clit and shushing him softly.

“Yeah you can, one more for me. God you’re so good like this, one more for me Stiles.” Stiles sobs, grinding his hips down on Derek’s hand. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the way Derek circles his thumb in slow, teasing motions and comes with a shaky, hoarse cry of Derek’s name. He feels Derek’s cum dribble out of him obscenely.

Derek gives him a moment to breathe, brushes his hair back from his forehead and massages his inner thighs. They’re achy at the joints and it feels like he’s got friction burn. He mumbles happily when Derek kisses him slow and… sweet.

For a moment, Derek pulls away and Stiles is jarred to awareness, opens his eyes and grasps for Derek’s wrist. Derek leans back over and kisses him hot and open mouthed, presses him back into the sheets with a gentle hand. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” He obeys, curling into the sticky sheets and groaning at the pleasant soreness in his body.

Derek returns some time later and peels the sheets and blankets off and sits between Stiles’ thighs. He cleans the cum off of them gently, eyes flicking up to Stiles’ face from time to time. He bring the warm cloth between his legs and Stiles grabs his wrist.

“Don’t.” He croaks. “I want to feel it, later.” Derek groans lowly and grits his teeth, turning his focus back to methodically cleaning up their mess. When he’s done, he massages Stiles’ thighs again until he feels ready to pass out from how comfortable and sated he feels.

When he’s almost asleep, Derek murmurs, “Did it help?”

“Yeah.” He replies, voice thick with sleep. Silence hangs in the air.

“I want you, Stiles.” Derek’s hands leave his thighs and Stiles opens his eyes to watch the man lean over him, face serious. “More than just this. More than just now. But I-”

“Stay.” Stiles whispers, pulling Derek against him snugly. His heat and weight are nearly overwhelming, but Derek turns and nuzzles into his neck. His breath hitches.

“Stiles, I-”

“I know. Me too.” He whispers in reply, turning to curl into the larger man. Words hang, uncertain and half-formed between them. But exhaustion catches up, and they always have tomorrow. Stiles feels… weirdly comforted, at the way this day has gone this year. He cups Derek’s face and stares up at him. “Thank you.”

Derek smiles. It’s familiar; knowing.

They drift off into sleep as the gentle patter of rain starts up on the roof.

 

 


End file.
